


Battle Scarred

by Dont_touch_the_phlebotinum



Series: Battle Scarred [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Agent of Asgard Loki, Hurt/Comfort, Journey into Mystery spoilers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 22:23:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dont_touch_the_phlebotinum/pseuds/Dont_touch_the_phlebotinum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a few months since The Winter Soldier's memories were restored and he became Bucky Barnes once again, yet none of SHIELD's endless resources can erase the guilt he feels for his actions. But perhaps it's not help he needs so much as someone who understands. Someone who's going through the same. Someone like Loki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battle Scarred

Most people, when they woke in the middle of the night, would lament the fact that their sleep had been disturbed. They’d shrug off whatever nightmare had proved too distressing to bear any longer and would roll over and return to blissful unconsciousness. It had been a long damn time since Bucky had been like most people.

For the first few weeks he’d been living in Stark Tower, after SHIELD had declared him no longer a threat and released him from their custody, Bucky had tried to act like most people. He’d developed a routine – as much as hours of yet more testing and supposed rehabilitation each day could be considered such – and climbed into bed at a reasonable hour to rise bright and early the next morning. It should have worked; if he couldn’t escape the memories of his life as the Winter Soldier screaming through his head until they made him sick during the day, sleep should have been his refuge, his chance to think of something, _anything_ , but murder and destruction. It didn’t take him long to realise the nights were even worse.

He had no idea if the images he saw, the awful things happening at his hands, were just figments of his imagination or more memories coming back to him. It would have probably been simple enough to find out – surely SHIELD had ample records on the Winter Soldier which Bucky could track down – though the faint glimmer of hope that at least some of the atrocities weighing on his mind weren’t real was the only thing keeping him from falling into total despair.

And so there he was, pushing himself back into a sitting position on the couch in his apartment, twice the size of his old home in Brooklyn yet still considered small by Stark Tower’s standards, at three AM and berating himself for falling asleep. He couldn’t stay awake forever, yet he’d stave off sleep until he dropped if that was what he had to do to find whatever hint of peace he could get. It had worked well enough so far.

But fatigue still hung heavy over him, and none of the seemingly endless number of channels on his TV showed anything to capture his interest, so running his fingers through his messy hair as he went, Bucky left his apartment and made his way down to the communal floor.

Even at this late hour there were sounds of activity coming from the gym as Bucky passed, though thankfully that was the only room that was occupied. Bucky didn’t much fancy company at the best of times these days; it was the last thing he could handle right now. It took just about all the energy Bucky could muster to pretend he was fine when he trained with Steve each morning, so now, with his body craving sleep and more nightmares fresh in his mind, he doubted he’d be able to raise so much as a smile.

The lights overhead came to life automatically when Bucky stepped into the rec room, along with the tiny speakers mounted to the walls playing a song he didn’t recognise. He ignored the pool and foosball tables taking up the main floor space and headed straight to the bar in the corner, helping himself to a bottle of whiskey and settling in at his usual stool. He’d just set his empty glass back down on the polished wood to pour himself another when the door swung open again.

“What is it people say about drinking alone, Sgt. Barnes?”

Bucky shot a sidelong glance at Loki strolling across the room far too brightly for this time of night. He’d arrived at Stark Tower not long after Bucky had, and had been put through even more rigorous testing to make sure he’d truly reformed. It was hard to believe the kid had it in him to be as evil as he apparently had been, though when it came to Loki, looks were definitely deceiving. Even a guy like Bucky, who was still struggling to believe magic really existed outside the realm of myths and fairytales, could sense the power radiating from Loki.

“It’s been a long while since I was a sergeant,” he said, taking another sip of his drink while Loki perched on the stool beside him.

“Then what should I call you?” He didn’t say the words, but Bucky could tell they were on his mind. Hell, it was on everyone’s mind when they were around Bucky.

“Bucky,” he said, before Loki could offer his suggestion. “Call me Bucky.”

“That’s a mightily odd name you have there.”

“You’re one to talk.” Loki smirked and reached out, though just as his fingertips nudged the side of Bucky’s glass, Bucky put out a hand to stop him. “You even old enough to drink, kid?”

Loki just shot Bucky a look in response. He took the glass, knocking back its contents as if it was filled with water before setting it back in front of Bucky for a refill. Bucky obliged with a shrug and poured out another glass for himself.

They drank in silence for a moment, though from the corner of his eye Bucky could see Loki watching him all the while. He spoke up when Bucky turned to meet his gaze. “You look tired.”

“Yeah; I imagine I do.”

“Then why aren’t you asleep? That is the customary thing for humans to do in this situation, is it not?”

There was simple curiosity in his eyes more than anything when Bucky turned back from his glass to look at him again, though it was joined by understanding. Bucky sighed. “’Cause when I’m awake I can at least try to forget about the things I’ve done.”

Not that he had been very successful so far. But maybe he didn’t deserve to forget. He hadn’t been locked away or tortured or killed; maybe being haunted by his actions was his punishment for them.

They should have killed him instead.

“Does the liquor help with that?” Loki said.

“If you drink enough of it.” At that, Loki helped himself to the bottle and poured out another generous helping. “Trying to forget as well, huh?”

Loki shrugged and gulped down a mouthful, pulling a face as he set his glass back down. “This stuff really is foul,” he said. That didn’t stop him from drinking more, though.

Two empty bottles later, light was beginning to pour in through the room’s large windows and Bucky was still agonizingly lucid. Apparently drowning his sorrows was against the terms of his sentence. It made sense, he supposed, though it served to add yet more fuel to his burning wish that his fall had been fatal. He could have died regular old James Barnes, been forgotten by history except for the occasional mention of his name in connection to Captain America, and not be sitting here now with decades of blood on his hands and no way to wash it clean.

“Well I suppose I should go to bed before the day really starts,” Loki announced, sliding off his stool and patting Bucky on the shoulder as he passed. “Goodnight, Sgt. Barnes.”

“Goodnight, Loki.” He watched Loki saunter out of the room before clearing away their glasses and heading upstairs himself. But he didn’t climb into his own bed; Steve would be swinging by to go training in an hour or so, and if he knew Bucky had been drinking all night – with Loki, no less – he’d be convinced something was wrong. Well, something was, but if it was nothing anyone could fix what was the point in worrying Steve about it? He hopped into the shower and made himself a large cup of coffee, and by the time Steve knocked on his door, Bucky at least looked a little more human than he felt.

 

That evening when Bucky set foot in the rec room once again, Loki was already sitting at the bar, his long coat draped over the back of his stool and the sleeves of his tunic rolled up to his elbows. Two empty glasses sat on the counter top.

“Good evening, Sgt. Barnes,” he said with a smile, one Bucky returned as he crossed the room to join him. Once he’d sat down, the full bottles by Loki’s arm caught Bucky’s eye.

“They’ve restocked already?”

“I may have liberated them from Mr. Stark’s private bar,” replied Loki, in a tone that was probably meant to be sheepish yet sounded anything but. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“That’s not very good behaviour for someone who’s supposed to be on the straight and narrow.”

“On the contrary; I happen to be delaying a man’s inevitable liver failure. I’m doing him a service.” He sold his argument with a confidence Bucky couldn’t argue with, before filling their glasses without a word, studying Bucky’s face as he slid a glass over to him. “Have you slept at all since I last saw you?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you cannot hold yourself to blame for actions you had no control over.”

Steve had told him something similar when he’d first been taken into SHIELD’s custody after his memories were restored, yet the words had done as much to comfort Bucky then as they did now. He did blame the people responsible for creating the Winter Soldier for their part in the horrors he’d committed over the decades, but it didn’t change the fact Bucky had been the one behind the trigger. He was just as culpable.

He downed his drink instead of bothering to respond to Loki.

The difference between Stark’s expensive liquors and the cheaper drinks he and Loki had shared the night before was palpable, though Bucky still didn’t pay much mind to the taste. Even if he couldn’t get drunk – and he’d do his damnedest to try – at least the act of attempting to drink away his troubles with Loki was something of a distraction.

“I wonder,” Loki started after a moment, “if SHIELD could not make you forget these troubling memories of yours. Surely they would have the technology, with their resources and men like Stark and Dr. Banner on the payroll. And if they intend to find some use for you, I doubt they would much appreciate you putting a bullet in your brainpan before you can be of service.”

Bucky turned to meet Loki’s eyes. He’d never even considered that a possibility. “You think they can do that?”

“Playing with people’s brains seems like the kind of thing SHIELD would love to experiment with,” he said. “Though would you truly want another shady organisation poking around inside your skull just so you would not have to remember the acts of your alter ego?”

He had a good point there. Bucky would never have been in this mess in the first place if it hadn’t been for people toying about with his head – but surely the benefits would far outweigh the potential downsides. He didn’t particularly trust SHIELD, yet Loki was right; if they wanted Bucky to work for them, surely they would only want to help him.

“Wouldn’t you do anything to forget some of the things you’ve done?” he said eventually.

Loki looked like he wanted nothing more than to say yes to that question, but instead he stood and rounded the bar to inspect some of the other drinks on offer.

“Never,” he replied, almost too quietly for Bucky to hear, before turning back to face him. It was Bucky’s turn to study Loki curiously now.

“What did you do?” he said.

“What makes you think I did anything?”

“’Cause in my experience, kid, folks are only as insufferably cheerful as you are when they’re overcompensating for something. I was a soldier; got any idea how many times I’ve seen that look, that ‘I’ve seen and done things no man should’ look you’ve got in your eyes?” Loki’s smile faltered while Bucky spoke, and as Bucky watched his expression harden he seemed so much older than his body would suggest. “Curious, why you would want to hold on to that.”

Loki stared at Bucky for a long moment, his arms folded across his chest and mouth set in a thin line, before he finally sighed and broke the silence. “Because you may have been a good man forced to do things against his nature, but I wasn’t,” he said. “I was bad. Unambiguously, capital ‘B’ bad, and I was given a second chance, to be a new, better Loki. And I was, until I killed that Loki. But I didn’t kill him enough to rid myself of him completely.”

Bucky listened to Loki speak without interrupting. It pained Loki so much to get the words out the slightest noise from Bucky would likely derail his story completely. He had no idea if Loki was speaking in metaphors or being literal; the latter wouldn’t have surprised him given the insanity of the world he now lived in, though in the end it probably didn’t matter either way.

“So if I forget what I did,” Loki continued, “if I lose the other Loki’s voice in my head telling me I’m a monster, there’s nothing to keep me from being bad again. And I don’t want to be bad anymore.” He selected a bottle of vodka from the shelves behind him and sank down into one of the plush couches in the centre of the room. Bucky followed.

“You don’t seem like a monster to me.” Bucky took the drink from Loki’s hand while he spoke, gulping down a mouthful just as Loki had done, and as the liquid burnt its way down his throat Loki offered him a warm smile.

“Neither do you. Keep it,” he added when Bucky offered him the bottle again. “It’s not as good as Stark’s.”

He hopped back up to his feet, his vigour returning as quickly as it had drained from him, and retrieved the whiskey they had left at the bar. His renewed good cheer felt even more unnatural now Bucky knew what lurked beneath it, but if that was what he needed to do to get through the day Bucky wouldn’t question it. God knew he was guilty of doing something similar at times. And at least the warmth had spread to Loki’s eyes now, as he clinked his bottle against the one Bucky still held and said, “cheers.”

Just as the night before, neither of them even thought about moving until the lightening sky outside let them know exactly how late it was. Yet even though Bucky had to head upstairs in time to meet Steve, his body was rooted firmly in place and he lacked the motivation to move it.

He wasn’t the only one with that problem. “I should go,” Loki said, without moving an inch.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Same time tomorrow?”

“Steal us some more drinks and you’re on.” He took Loki’s outstretched hand and they shook on it before Loki climbed to his feet to collect his coat. But he didn’t disappear. As soon as he’d slid the coat over his narrow shoulders, Loki returned to the couch and sat back in his vacated spot while Bucky watched him curiously. He closed the distance between them and gently pressed his lips against Bucky’s in a brief, chaste kiss.

It took Bucky a moment to figure out how to respond. “What was that for?” he managed at last.

“You have nice lips,” Loki said simply. “I wanted to see if they felt as good as they look.”

“And?”

Loki pursed his own lips, his gaze flicking to Bucky’s mouth and back up to his eyes again. “I can’t decide. I may need to investigate further.”

“Be my guest,” Bucky said. He’d never been with a man before, had never felt any particular attraction to one, yet he couldn’t say the sensation of Loki’s lips on his had been an unpleasant one. And Loki was a handsome man; even Bucky could see that, so what was the harm in it?

Loki’s fingers slid along Bucky’s jaw and settled behind his ear as he moved in closer again. His lips lingered on Bucky’s this time, soft enough to make Bucky long for more, and his hand slid to the small of Loki’s back, holding him in place while he deepened the kiss.

The taste of whiskey was still rife on Loki’s tongue. Maybe that was what was making Bucky so heady; he couldn’t remember the last time a simple kiss had had this much effect on him. Though it had been a lifetime or so since he’d kissed anyone while not under the influence of brainwashing and God only knew what else, so maybe they had always felt like this.

It was with reluctance that Loki eventually pulled away, showering Bucky’s lips with quick kisses before he managed to part from him completely, and Bucky smiled when they met each other’s eyes. He almost felt like his old self again in that moment – though Loki was a definite change from the giggling young ladies he used to sneak kisses from behind movie theatres and dance clubs back in the day.

“Very impressive,” Loki said, and got to his feet with an air of definitiveness about him. Just as Bucky was even more reluctant to part ways. “Tomorrow.”

Bucky nodded and with a grin Loki made his way to the door. He glanced back over his shoulder for one last look before disappearing into the hallway.

 

They didn’t bother with the pretence of drinking when they met again. Loki had already made himself comfortable on the couch and a bright smile stretched across his face as Bucky crossed the room toward him. He met it with one of his own, though it didn’t feel half as natural as Loki’s, his mind filled with images from his past he couldn’t shake. But hopefully Loki’s presence would suitably distract him, as it had the last two nights.

“You’re late,” Loki said, yet despite the accusatory tone, his smile didn’t fade.

“Sorry; I fell asleep.” While he spoke, Bucky leant in close to reacquaint himself with the lips that hadn’t been far from his mind all day, but as soon as the words left him Loki’s eyes filled with concern.

“Are you all right?”

“I am now,” he said before closing the last few inches between them.

Loki’s mouth felt just as good on his as it had before, and it only took a few seconds for the pair to deepen their kiss, tongues sliding against each other while their hands sought out whatever parts of one another’s bodies they could find. Even when they had to pause for breath they didn’t stay apart for long, mouthing along jawbones and throats while the other gulped down enough air to fuel them for another spell.

“Did you have more nightmares?” Loki murmured against Bucky’s mouth. He had to strain to remember what Loki was talking about; whether it was the thrill of kissing someone new after so long or that Loki happened to be particularly skilled at it, Bucky’s body was responding enthusiastically – too enthusiastically for him to think of much else besides Loki’s body against his. Though the fact that Bucky desperately didn’t want to be reminded of the memories which had caused him to wake on the verge of tears and sick with guilt could have also been a factor.

“Doesn’t matter.”

He pulled Loki in again until he was practically sitting on Bucky’s lap, his thigh pressing against Bucky’s erection with just enough pressure to drive him to distraction, but after a kiss far too brief for Bucky’s liking Loki pulled back to look him in the eye. His lips had turned a deep shade of pink.

“Shall we head upstairs, then?”

Bucky’s heart rate jumped at that. “Absolutely,” he breathed, and with an eager smile Loki took Bucky’s hand and led him up to his apartment.

The wait for Loki to unlock his front door was almost too much for Bucky to bear, but he resisted his urge to pick up where they’d left off downstairs and kept his hands to himself. It had been over 70 years since he’d last taken someone to bed; he could survive another couple of minutes.

Finally Loki stepped back to allow Bucky inside an apartment identical to his own – albeit one that looked a little more lived in; books piled on just about every surface and what Bucky could only assume were ingredients for some kind of spellwork littering the floor in the centre of the sitting area.

“I presume you know where the bedroom is.”

“I think I’ll find it.”

As soon as they’d both entered the modest bedroom on the other side of the kitchen Loki’s hands found Bucky again and they kissed with more hunger and purpose than before. But as much as Bucky wanted this, he couldn’t help but feel apprehensive. And that feeling only intensified when Loki stepped away to shed his clothes, revealing a long, thin body, only the occasional smattering of dark hair to break up the pale skin. He couldn’t be more than 20 at the most.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Bucky said quickly. “Just... is this weird? I’m technically in my nineties, and you’re–.”

“Technically, over a thousand,” Loki finished for him with a shrug, his smile not quite enough to hide the relief flooding his eyes. “If that makes you feel better.”

“Yeah, that helps.”

“Good.” Loki made himself comfortable on the bed pushed back into the far corner of the room, stretching out to show off as much of his lithe form as he could. “Now take your clothes off.”

He didn’t hesitate. His clothes hit the floor with a dull thump and he joined Loki on the bed.

Loki’s hand moved to Bucky’s left shoulder as soon as it was within his reach and Bucky tensed at the touch. He should have known it would draw Loki’s attention. The few other people who had seen Bucky without the long-sleeved black t-shirt he’d taken to wearing since he’d been in SHIELD’s custody had shown an interest in his cybernetic arm as well, though not in nearly as intimate a moment as this.

“How does it work?” Loki said, his fingers trailing along the join between metal and skin, apparently oblivious to Bucky’s discomfort.

“I have no idea. SHIELD’s been doing tests to figure it out, but if they know anything, they haven’t shared.”

“Well aren’t you a mystery, Sgt. Barnes.”

Thankfully he wasn’t one Loki wanted to unravel further for the time being. His fingers slid away from Bucky’s arm to gently brush down his abdomen, and when his hand closed around Bucky’s dick a soft gasp escaped him.

He swallowed. “You know, I’ve never actually been with another man before,” he said while Loki stroked his rapidly hardening length. He squeezed his eyes shut as Loki’s grip tightened ever so slightly. He’d forgotten just how good this felt.

“Don’t worry; I’ll take it easy on you.”

He pressed a quick kiss to Bucky’s lips and moved away. Bucky was about to protest when he noticed the small bottle Loki was reaching for on the windowsill, and he watched in awe as Loki slid his wet fingers between his legs. It was hotter than Bucky had ever thought it could be, even before the moan that sounded from deep in Loki’s throat.

If the last few minutes had been any indication, this was going to be over with before Bucky could really enjoy it.

“Do you want me to–” Bucky started, but before he could finish his sentence Loki’s hand reappeared, his fingers glistening in the soft light from the lamp beside the bed.

God, he was really going to go through with this, wasn’t he? There was no going back now, as Loki reached for the bottle once more and poured out more of its contents, though even if Bucky could have backed out, he had no desire to do so. It wasn’t apprehension he felt now so much as a kind of nervous excitement, and with each kiss and brush of Loki’s skin against his, Bucky’s nerves ebbed away a little more.

Bucky flinched when Loki wrapped a hand around his erection again, surprised by the cold of the liquid in his palm, but he was soon warmed by Loki stroking him until long after his length was fully coated. He reached down to return the favour, and after a few tentative strokes Loki pulled back and met Bucky’s eyes.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Loki planted one last kiss on him and lay on his stomach in the middle of the bed, propped up on his elbows and looking back over his shoulder at Bucky with anticipation burning in his eyes. Against the dark grey of the bedsheets, Loki’s almost translucent skin made him look like some kind of spectre. A small part of Bucky was sure that as he leant forward to touch Loki he would go straight through him, as if the last few nights had been nothing but a fabrication of his sleep-deprived mind, but he moved closer all the same, and his lips connected with the back of a lean thigh sure enough.

That was all the build-up either of them could stand. Bucky settled between Loki’s spread legs and pushed inside him.

“Oh, God,” he gasped.

He hadn’t given much thought to what it would feel like being with Loki, but he’d never imagined Loki would be so tight around him. It was overwhelming. He dropped to rest his forehead against Loki’s shoulder while he slid further into Loki, and Loki moaned beneath him.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” Loki said, pushing back against Bucky as he started to slowly move. “It feels good.”

“You’ve done this before?”

“Not in this body.”

He twisted to meet Bucky’s mouth in another hungry kiss. The pair moaned against each other’s lips as Bucky moved with more confidence, his hips snapping forward in a steady rhythm, each thrust prompting tiny noises of pleasure from Loki. At least he seemed to be enjoying it as much as Bucky was.

In all his workouts with Steve, Bucky barely even felt his heart rate increase, let alone any adrenaline pumping through his veins. He had assumed whatever myriad ways he’d been manipulated to become the perfect assassin had left him incapable of feeling. But now, he was exhilarated. His heart raced, sweat trickled down his body and it wasn’t long before he was crying out in sheer, overpowering ecstasy as he reached his climax.

He couldn’t remember ever having such an intense orgasm before.

Still writhing beneath him, Loki let out another desperate moan when Bucky reached a hand into the small gap between Loki’s hips and the mattress, and after a few strokes his mouth fell open in a silent scream. His head sank down onto the pillows, exposing the back of his neck for Bucky to press a soft kiss against before separating himself from Loki and settling on his side next to him.

“That was amazing.”

Loki hummed his agreement and, with some effort, rolled onto his side as well. He fit perfectly into the curve of Bucky’s body.

“You’re cold,” Bucky said as he pressed himself against Loki’s back. He hadn’t noticed that earlier. Or perhaps he had, but had been too distracted by his desire for it to register. Either way, he didn’t particularly mind; it was quite soothing, actually.

“That’s rich coming from you, metal man,” Loki replied, though he made no effort to move away from Bucky or shrug out from under the metal arm draped over his side. A green light emanated from him as he and Bucky lay together, rapidly growing until it washed over them both with a warm sensation, and as quickly as it had come the light ebbed away, taking the sweat and sticky traces of their releases with it. It was a handy spell. The last thing Bucky felt like doing was dragging himself off the bed to get cleaned up.

He brushed the hair away from Loki’s face to see the smile Loki had been wearing replaced by a pensive expression, staring at the blank wall in front of him without making a sound as melancholy settled over the pair once again.

“Do you ever worry that you can’t be saved?” Loki said quietly.

“All the time.”

Loki shifted in Bucky’s arms to glance back at him. “I’ll watch over you if you agree to watch over me.”

“Sounds like a fair deal.”

They shared a tender kiss to seal their arrangement and Loki settled back against Bucky’s chest again, his fingers languidly brushing up and down Bucky’s cybernetic arm while his eyes slipped closed and he drifted off to sleep.

If Bucky concentrated hard enough, it was almost as if he could feel Loki’s touch.


End file.
